


Of Flowers, Thunderstorm and Tranquility

by elletromil



Series: Falling into you [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Tiny bit of Angst, Worldbuilding, tiny bit of bloodplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 20:15:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7947547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elletromil/pseuds/elletromil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fresh snow crinkles satisfyingly under his feet as Harry slowly makes his rounds of his part of the Forest. He is seconds away from humming when a whimpering sound from a bush nearby gives him pause.</p><p>Harry carefully makes his way towards the sound, on his guard. He gasps in surprise when he parts the foliage. He doesn’t know what he expected, but one thing is certain, it wasn’t the unconscious Summer Child curled up around himself.</p><p>Edit: Now with art by the amazing Johanirae, the link is in the story <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Flowers, Thunderstorm and Tranquility

**Author's Note:**

> So if you follow me on tumblr, you might have read the first part of this one-shot, from a month back, or even the teaser about 9 months ago. If you think any of this is a long time, well, I have had this story on my mind for at least a whole year, if it's not more.
> 
> The idea first came to me from a mix of things. Around the same time, I read somewhere or called Eggsy my sweet summer child, started listening to the song Snow Storm by Amarante and there was a thunderstorm and the next thing I knew, I was building that whole universe around the smut-y it all made me think of.
> 
> So basically this is a huge excuse for fluff and world building for my little universe where there are only two seasons, Winter and Summer and the people inhabiting this world are divided into either the Winter Folks or Summer Folks (I never claimed I was original okay, sue me). I would explain more, but really, you only need to know this to read the fic.
> 
> I owe a huge thank you to Regency for agreeing to read over the smut part of this story and telling me what needed some editing. Since the smut part was the one scene that made me want to write this whole story, I wanted it to be perfect and I think, with Reg's help, I've made it as close as I can possibly get.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think of it :D

It is first day of Winter, the wind blows cold, snow has started covering the forest in its white blanket and Harry smiles contentedly while he stretches his arms above his head, back popping with a satisfying sound.

The fresh snow crinkles satisfyingly under his feet as he slowly makes his rounds of his part of the Forest. He is seconds away from humming when a whimpering sound from a bush nearby gives him pause.

Harry carefully makes his way towards the sound, on his guard. He gasps in surprise when he parts the foliage. He doesn’t know what he expected, but one thing is certain, it wasn’t the unconscious Summer Child curled up around himself.

He doesn’t hesitate for a second before taking the boy in his arms, wrapping him in his furs. He knows of course that the Summer Folks have a lower body temperature than the Winter Folks, but the freezing skin against his own warm one cannot be considered normal by any stretch of the imagination.

Harry can only hope he isn’t too late. He doesn’t know why the boy isn’t safely in his guardian’s den to wait out Winter, but it doesn’t bode well for Lee. Harry might not have had many dealings with his Summer counterpart, but the man had seemed of a good sort. He cannot think of a single reason for the man to abandon an innocent child to a sure death.

However, now is not the time to think of what possibly happened. The boy needs to get to the warmth of a den quickly, and unfortunately Harry doesn’t have the faintest idea as to where Lee’s den had been located. It only leaves his own as a viable option and he’s already thinking of the changes he’ll need to make so that the boy will be comfortable all through Winter. In his state, the boy won’t be able to warm up the den and the furs on Harry’s bed can only offer so much protection against the biting cold.

The child hasn’t regained consciousness during the brief walk to Harry’s den, but when he makes to lower him to the bed, his little hands tightly grips on the furs Harry is wearing. It’s reassuring to know the boy is not so far gone that he can still recognize heat and doesn’t want to let it go, but it’s a bit inconvenient for Harry. If he is to change the layout of his den to accommodate some kind of fireplace, it will be easier with his arms free.

He finally manages to make the boy let go after wrapping him in the furs of the bed and takes a moment to chuckle in amusement when the Summer child’s head disappear inside the blankets. Then he sets up to work so that the boy’s stay will be as comfortable as he can make it.

*

After making sure there had been nothing more he could have done for the boy and that his skin had started feeling cool rather than cold as ice, he had left him alone to his sleep.

He comes back to his den a couple of days later, to make sure everything is fine. He had made sure to leave some food out in clear view for the boy, in case he would be too shy to explore his unfamiliar surroundings, since he doesn’t want him to go hungry for the rest of his stay.

The food has been eaten, the fire is still roaring and the greenest eyes he’s ever seen is looking at him from the bed when he finally makes it to the den.

Harry is pleased to note that there is only curiosity displayed on the child’s face rather than fear. The Wars might be things of the past, but you simply never know what has been transmitted from guardians to their charges. It’ll be easier to help the boy throughout Winter without having to wade through distrust and resentment.

“Hello child. I am glad to see you are awake. Are you hungry? Cold? Do you need anything?” He never had a charge of his own, but he finds it easy for his voice to settle in a gentle tone and he kneels by the bed without any conscious decision on his part so that he’ll be on the same level as the boy.

“Who are you?” Harry smiles when all his questions are ignored. He should have known that a child’s curiosity would be stronger than anything.

“My name is Harry.”

“You’re not Summer,” the boy says, something akin to awe in his voice when his eyes finally take in Harry’s attire. No Summer Folk would ever wear fur, lest they die from a heatstroke.

“You’re right,” he confirms, encouraging the boy to touch the fur he is wearing with a smile. They are different from the ones on his bed, longer and softer.

“Where’s Lee?” the boy asks, before Harry can say anything else. He tries not to let his expression darkens, but the child must still feel something isn’t right because his lower lip starts quivering a little.

“I don’t know child. I had hoped you could tell me.” From the distress on the boy’s face, it is clear he won’t be of any help on that front. Harry sighs before sitting on the bed with the boy, drawing him closer in silent comfort. “It’s okay, you can stay here in my den until Summer comes again.”

There’s a sound of surprise from the boy and his eyes grow comically large as the realisation of where he is hits him. “Oh… You sure you don’t mind?”

“Of course not, child. I prefer knowing you safe inside, rather than out in the cold. Winter is no place for Summer Folks, especially not one as young as you are.” He is unsure if the boy understands yet the implications of what he is being told, if he understands that Winter would mean certain death to him, much like Summer would mean certain death for Harry. But it wouldn’t do to linger on the thought. The boy is safe and this is the most important. “What is your name child?”

“Eggsy,” he replies readily, laughing when Harry nods gravely while telling him it is a very fine name.

“Would you like to share a meal with me Eggsy?”

The vigorous nodding is all the answer Harry needs to know he must have been famished.

*

Eggsy’s curiosity doesn’t weaken. He spends most of the Winter asleep, of course, much like Harry sleeps most of Summer away. However, he usually wakes every few days when Harry comes to check up on him and to share a meal with him.

They talk a lot as they eat, or rather Harry answers every questions Eggsy has and pretends he doesn’t notice the Summer Child’s looks towards the entry of the den, doesn’t recognize the light in his eyes as the burning desire to _know_.

It would be a very bad idea to take the boy outside, no matter how strong he’s gotten from all the food Harry has made sure he eats.

*

“You should have left him where you found him,” is the first thing out of Merlin’s mouth when he sees the Summer Child wrapped in too large furs playing in the snow.

Harry doesn’t reply, but his expression darkens. Merlin is old enough to carry with him the prejudices that lead to the Wars, but not old enough to have participated in them. He cannot understand how wary Harry is of witnessing pain and tragedy.

“From what I understand, someone claimed the territory from Lee, before deciding it wanted nothing of it and they left the child to fend for himself.”

He might be mistaken, but from the insights he’s gleaned from talking to Eggsy, it’s the most logical explanation. They would probably never know for sure, the Summer Child too young to truly understand what went around him at the time and the Summer Folk who attacked Lee probably long gone by now. Not that this last is necessarily a bad thing. The mere thought of what happened the previous season is enough to make his blood run cold in silent fury, enough to awaken savage instincts he’s left buried deep down inside of him at the end of the Wars.

“Summer Folks are cruel,” Merlin says with disgust and Harry snorts in incredulous amusement.

“Might I remind you that not a moment ago you told me I should have left him to freeze?”

His friend has the decency to look appropriately chastised and even mutters an apology that Harry waves away. It is of very little consequence now and he knows that the comment had more to do with an irrational fear of unknown reprisals from the elder Winter Folks for having helped their enemy. If any of them had survived the seasons following the Wars, Harry might have cared too, but he isn’t afraid of the dead. And even if he had been, the Summer Child’s radiant smile would be enough to chase their shadows away.

*

Summer is only a day away and his time with Eggsy is coming to an end. He would tempt the fate and try to delay his retreat for the hot season in order to help the boy find Lee’s den or build himself a new one, but Eggsy assured him he would be fine. And if by Winter he doesn’t have an adequate shelter, Harry made sure Eggsy knew he would be welcomed back to his own den with open arms.

The snow has only just started to melt under the afternoon Sun when Harry leaves Eggsy in a clearing close to where he found him at the beginning of Winter. It is still a bit cold, but tomorrow the heat will already be stifling for a Winter Folk like Harry and in the meantime, the child will be kept warm enough into his furs.

After fondly shuffling Eggsy’s hair for a last time, Harry walks back to his den and life finally resumes its natural course.

***

Winter is coming to an end and Harry is slowly trekking through his domain to make sure everything is in order for the coming Summer. Merlin always makes fun of him for doing so, because nothing ever changes, but Harry likes his slow walks in the forest. They calm him before his long slumber and fill his dreams with visions of what Summer might look like.

This time however, something is different and he stops in the middle of a clearing for a brief moment until he sees what exactly is unfamiliar. It is subtle really, barely noticeable, a simple patch of snow that has melted far quicker than the rest, just enough for a bit of greenery to have pierced right through.

Without making the conscious decision of doing so, he finds himself kneeling in front of what he can only assume are flowers, fingertips lightly brushing against the bell-like petals. So lost in his contemplation, in his _awe_ , he realises too late that he is no longer alone, and only the triumphant laughter echoing in his ears stops him from lashing out when a young man lets himself fall on top of him from the tree, as if too heavy snow from a branch.

“It worked! It really worked!” The newcomer settles down at his side, looking for all the world as if he belongs there, as if he is not in someone else’s territory. Turns out, he _isn’t_ , Harry quickly realises when he looks into the stranger’s eyes and recognizes the shade of green as the very same one as the Summer Child he had saved from a freezing death seasons ago. Not that Harry should be surprised, the young man is still wrapped in what used to be his furs, even if he no longer seems to be lost in the clothing.

“Eggsy,” he ends up saying in greeting and cannot help himself from smiling in return to the beaming grin Eggsy gets at being remembered. “What are you doing? Summer is still some days away. You should be in your den, not out in the cold.”

“That’s why I have the furs! To keep warm!” As if to belie his words, the young man starts shivering involuntarily and he only smiles sheepishly at Harry’s pointed look over his reaction.

Harry rolls his eyes in false exasperation, draping an arm around Eggsy’s shoulders and dragging him closer with a fond sigh. It’s only now that he is in his presence again that he understands just how much he’s been missing the boy’s bright company. Eggsy settles against him without protesting, as if nothing is more natural than Summer Folk and Winter Folk sitting side by side.

“Do you like them? The flowers? I remember you telling me how you wanted to see them and it’s the first year that I figured how to make it work!”

To say Harry is stunned that Eggsy recalled his words from so many seasons ago is a bit of an understatement. He himself barely remembers confiding to the Summer Child that, even though he had always been perfectly content in his land of frost and snow, he had always secretly desired to gaze upon the renowned flowers of Summer. The younger generation of Winter Folks all assume that those who participated in the Wars have had that chance, but the truth is entirely other. That time had been a confusing mess of intolerable heat and deathly cold that had nearly laid waste to the entire Forest. To this day, Harry still marvels that it has started flourishing again after the horrors committed by its Folks.

“So, do you?” The mirth has nearly deserted his voice, leaving the place to doubt and Harry realises he has been lost to things of the past far too long, especially when he’s being offered such a precious gift.

“Yes, yes of course I do,” he answers in a hurry and he thinks his heart might burst with affection at how soft Eggsy’s pride washing over his expression makes him look. “But how did you do it dear boy?”

If Eggsy minds being called a boy when he very obviously no longer is, he doesn’t say, preferring to regal Harry with the tales of his ingenuity instead.

“Well, at first I tried to influence the whole clearing, but it’s way too big. So I settled on a tinier portion and it kind of worked, except it was still too cold for the flowers, even when I urged them. And then last year I had this idea of infusing some seeds with my will _before_ Winter and to come back at the end of it to push them along and ta-da! Flowers in Winter!”

They both laugh, not because it’s funny, but just because this moment that they are sharing is one of pure unadulterated _joy_.

“Remarkable,” Harry whispers in reverence and he would be hard-pressed himself to say if he’s talking about the flowers or the boy’s impressive control over his powers at such a young age and with no mentor to show him the way.

“Yeah? I mean, they don’t look like much, a bit like drops of water, except, you know, _white_ , and I swear next time I’ll try so that they’re more colorful and-”

“Eggsy,” he interrupts gently, remembering how the boy could babble the hours away if only given half a chance. “They’re perfect really. Maybe they wouldn’t have their place in Summer, but here in Winter they’re like… Snowdrops.”

The Sun is setting when they finally get up to leave the clearing and even Harry’s warmth and the furs aren’t enough to keep Eggsy from shivering after staying so long out in the cold. However, if his contented smile when they part ways is any indication, it would have taken much more than this small discomfort to ruin Eggsy’s afternoon.

*

Harry startles awake when he feels someone stepping inside his den, but relaxes at once when he recognizes the intruder.

“Eggsy? What are you doing here?”

Winter will start somewhen during the night, which means the Summer Child really should be getting into his own den, means that he should be getting ready for his long sleep.

“Is that invitation still standing?” The young man’s sheepish expression is all the explanation Harry needs to understand to what he is referring to.

“Of course,” he urges him to sit on the bed, eyes roaming his figure warily in search for some injury, fearing what could have made Eggsy’s den inadequate for the cold season. “What happened?

“Nothing bad, really,” Eggsy is quick to reassure him when he hears the note of worry in his voice. “It’s just that JB had nowhere else to go and I don’t mind him, but he does make the place feel a bit smaller… _Way_ smaller, and I guessed it’s not like you’d really need the place. I promise I’ll be out of your hair before you realizes Summer is here.”

Harry doesn’t say it, but he doubts that Eggsy could ever outstay his welcome, for the simple reason that Harry enjoys his company too much. However, even if Eggsy’s explanation kind of makes sense, there is still one point that remains unclear.

“Who’s JB?”

Eggsy frowns at the question, looking as if Harry should have _known_ , until he must come to the realisation that no, he really couldn’t have.

“Oh! Right! He only got here in the middle of Summer… JB is our bear!”

For a moment, Harry thinks Eggsy has misspoke, but after nearly a minute of the boy merely smiling happily while telling Harry how JB has come to their part of the Forest one day and just stayed afterwards, he must accepts that he did heard that right.

“So let me get this straight,” he’s not really being polite, what with how he’s interrupting Eggsy mid-story, but he simply cannot stop himself. “A lone bear has come to our territory and when he stayed you decided to bring him to your own den and then name him? And what do you mean, _our_ bear?”

“Well you said it yourself, he came to _our_ territory. That makes him our bear. Even if I doubt you’ll see much of him during Winter. But JB is great, trust me! I’m sure you’ll love him!”

Where he gets that confidence, Harry doesn’t know, but in the end, he decides not to argue. There are worse things in existence than suddenly obtaining a pet bear. Maybe not anything more _ridiculous_ than that, that’s for sure. However, in exchange for the chance of spending more time with Eggsy, there is actually very little Harry wouldn’t learn to live with.

“Alright, JB the bear, why not? Now are you planning to come to bed anytime soon? Because I know I intend to sleep the few hours of Summer that are left.”

Eggsy considers his options for a moment before getting to the conclusion that getting a little head-start on his hibernation won’t hurt.

“Can I make a fire? It’s a bit chilly here.”

Harry nods in answer before lying back down on the bed, grateful to his past-self laziness for not removing the fireplace.

He’s already half-asleep already when he feels Eggsy’s weight settling on the other side of the bed. Then, just before he returns to the Dreamlands, he hears the Summer Child’s whispered words of gratitude and it’s with a fond smile on his lips that he welcomes sleep’s embrace.

*

Eggsy groans unhappily at being shaken awake, even if Harry did it very gently. For a second, Eggsy thinks he’s missed the end of Winter and has broken his promise to Harry, but from what he can feel when he extends his senses, this is still the early days of the cold season.

“Did you bring your furs?”Harry asks him as soon as he notices his eyes are opened, paying no attention to his questioning frown.

“Erm, yeah, yeah I did, why?” For a crazy second Eggsy thinks that Harry is kicking him out, but he knows the older man would never do it. Why save him all those seasons ago, if only to let him suffer the same fate now that he was older?

“Put them on and join me outside I want to show you something.”

Eggsy gasps at him in surprise, but Harry is already walking away. He heaves a deep sigh before pushing himself out of the bed. If he wants to know what caused his usually so serious friend to be smiling with frantic anticipation, he’s got no choice but to follow him.

Not that he really minds it, even if he’s a bit tired. He just never expected Harry to be the one suggesting, _asking_ him, that he goes outside. Back when he had been just a child, it had taken _weeks_ to convince Harry to let him accompany him out of the den. And even then it had only been for a couple hours at a time and Eggsy is still certain he had been more furs than child during these little excursions in the snow.

Predictably, it is snowing when he joins Harry and maybe it’s the furs, maybe it’s the fact he’s older, but it doesn’t seem to be quite as cold as in his memories. Even the end of last Winter had not seem quite as warm when he had gotten out of his den to make the Snowdrops grow. Before he can mention it to Harry however, the other takes him by the elbow and leads him to what Eggsy is starting to refer to as _their_ clearing. Because while yes, it is _theirs_ because it’s on their territory, it is not the only one on their domain. But this is where Harry found him that first time they met, this is where he managed to make the flowers grow and where whatever the other man wants to share with him seems to be.

“Close your eyes, please?”

He obeys the request at once, completely trusting Harry. They walk to the edge of the clearing and he lets Harry position his head however he wants it, probably to allow him to look at what he wants to show him as soon as he opens his eyes.

“You can open them now.”

He does and for the first time in his existence, Eggsy finds himself rendered speechless. Every time he had been out during the previous Winter, he had noticed how no leaves had been left on the trees, how they were not made to stand the harsh weather. However, this time, some of the trees in the clearing have kept theirs and Eggsy notices right away that they are in the vicinity of where the Snowdrop would be once Winter comes to its end. That makes him wonder if maybe he isn’t having more of an influence on the clearing than he previously thought, but that theory is soon abandoned in favor of the marvel in front of him.

The leaves still keep some of their natural deep green, but one would barely noticed, what with the glistening frost that covers them. To Eggsy, it looks as if they have been painted over with tiny crystals.

“You shared Summer’s Flowers with me, I thought I’d share Winter’s Frost with you,” the words are whispered against his ear and for the first time ever, Eggsy doesn’t shiver because of the cold. Harry steps even closer, a warm presence at his back and, raising his hand, he brings Eggsy’s attention to other leaves he hadn’t noticed, probably because of the layer of snow enshrouding them.

Gently, Harry pushes the snow off of one leave and slowly runs his fingertip over its surface, tiny veins of frost springing to life across it from his will.

“Beautiful,” the word is barely audible, even to himself, but he knows Harry has heard him because he hums in agreement.

However, as he turns his head to look at Harry only to find him already looking at him instead of the leaves, he realises that they might not be talking about the same thing.

***

After another Winter of shared meals, it only seems natural for Harry to suggest to Eggsy that they share his den permanently. The young man accepts readily, nearly tripping over his own words, as if afraid Harry will rescind his offer if he doesn’t answer within seconds.

Harry is a bit astonished by his enthusiasm, to say the least.

Not that he regrets offering or that sharing doesn’t make perfect sense since they have very little use of a den during their respective season, but Harry is no fool.

What made him offer in the first place is the selfish desire to keep that bright presence at his side for as long as possible.

However, if Eggsy’s blush and delighted smile are any indications, that desire might not be as selfish as he previously thought.

*

Harry is now so used to Eggsy coming and going from their den that he doesn’t even wake up anymore.

Oh, they still share meals together, but Eggsy has to shake him awake all the time now once the table is set, because Harry has always been a master of laziness. Not that Eggsy seems to mind, especially considering Harry returns the favor every Winter.

Anyway, that is not the point. The point is that it is a familiar enough occurrence that Harry doesn’t question it when Eggsy gently shakes his shoulder, even if all his senses tell him it’s the middle of the night.

He is a bit more hesitant when Eggsy urges him to change into the same kind of flowy clothing that is favored by the Summer Folks. But the clothes fit perfectly and Eggsy is already waiting for him outside, and so Harry decides to humour him for a while before demanding an explanation.

It is slightly warmer than he would have preferred, but the clothes help in keeping him cool as Eggsy guides him, rather unsurprisingly, to their clearing. In the middle of it, a blanket as been laid out and there are a couple of plates of wild berries waiting for them.

“We could have eaten those inside,” Harry tells the young man once they have both sat down and Eggsy has given him one of the plate.

“Yes, but then, we would have missed those.”

On this cryptic reply, he plops down on his back, plate held on his stomach, eyes riveted to the sky. Harry follows his example, even though he fails to see what warranted this little trip. Of course the starry sky is gorgeous, but it is no different during Winter. Far more frequent maybe, as there are no storms during the hot season, but the stars stay the same.

He’s about to tell Eggsy exactly that, but a quick movement in the sky makes him gasp in surprise instead.

“It’s pretty neat, isn’t it?”

Harry nods in agreement, reluctant to look away now that he knows why Eggsy has dragged him here.

“I remember when I was younger, Lee would wake me some nights so that we would go watch the shooting stars. When I asked him why the stars were falling, he told me that each star in the sky is a different wish. And that when a wish is being fulfilled, its star would fall to the Forest so a new one could take its place. He also told me that if you thought of a wish and you saw a shooting star right after, then it meant that it would come true.”

_I wish we never part._

The thought comes unbidden, followed by the golden trail of a falling star.

And Harry has never been one for superstitions, from either of the Folks, but if he had to choose only one to be true, he knows which one it would be.

*

Eggsy isn’t surprised when Harry wakes him in the middle of the night and wraps him in even more furs than when he had been a child. It would be hard to miss the pattern they seem to have fallen into, the one where Eggsy shares something that is definitely Summer with Harry and for him to return the favor.

Or maybe Harry is the one who really started all of it when he not only saved him from a freezing death, but let himself be persuaded to show the beauties of Winter to the Summer Child he had rescued.

Not that it really matters who started it. Not when every new wonder shared makes them understand each other better, brings them ever closer.

Eggsy is excited already at the thought of discovering another of Winter’s marvel and nearly protests out loud that Harry is far too worried about the weather. Sure, the wind will probably be biting cold, but not enough to warrant all those layers of furs, not anymore. Still, Eggsy keeps silent and let his counterpart adjust the clothes around him. It obviously calms Harry to take care of him in this small way, and to be honest, the idea that Harry is looking out for him warms Eggsy faster than a roaring fire.

“Don’t look up,” comes the gentle order before they leave their den and Eggsy nearly groans out loud. Now he very much _wants_ to look up and he actually has to close his eyes and grab onto Harry’s arm, trusting him to guide him, just so he won’t spoil the surprise.

When Harry openly laughs at him, Eggsy elbows him in the ribs, barely hard enough for it to register through the layers of clothing between them, but at least, the other man makes an apologetic sound before leading him towards their clearing.

It takes far less time that he would have expected before Harry makes him sit down on a fur blanket. He waits until Harry has settled down besides him, then leans his head against his shoulder.

“Can I look now?”

“Yes.”

When Eggsy opens his eyes, it is to colorful waves dancing in the sky, painting the snow in hues of green, red and blues. The sight of the sky like this is so awe-inspiring, that he is entirely speechless. In fact, he cannot speak for so long, that Harry starts rambling on in his stead.

“Those are the auroras, the ethereal lights of the Dreamlands. It is said that if you follow their roads to their ends, you are to find all of your heart’s desires. I don’t know if anyone’s ever succeeded, but when I was young, about your age maybe, I thought I would give it a try.”

At this last part, a shadow passes over Harry’s face, one Eggsy is well acquainted with. He’s never asked for the details, because if Harry wants to speak of it, he will do so without being prompted. However, Eggsy knows that whenever his counterpart thinks of his past, the memories of the Wars are quick to resurface. And since Eggsy doesn’t like to see Harry lost to things the man himself admits he shouldn’t linger on, he is quick to remind him that he’s there with him, in the present.

“Well, I won’t deny they’re gorgeous, but I don’t think I’ll be following them anytime soon.”

“No?”

“Nope. After all, I’ve got my heart’s desire right here, don’t I?”

Harry doesn’t answer, not with words anyway. Instead, he slides a bit closer to him and circles an arm around his waist, letting Eggsy leans his weight against him.

They stay in that position until stormclouds start rolling in the distance, hiding the colorful lights of the Dreamlands’ roads.

***

Even if he won’t ever admit it to Eggsy, come Summer, Harry is quite appreciative of the clothes the young man made for him a few seasons ago. While they are very impractical for Winter, whenever he finds he cannot sleep during Summer and decides to wander outside looking for his counterpart, they are a far better choice than his furs.

He’s not that surprised when his sense of the young man leads him to their clearing. Even while the other sleeps on and they are alone to tend to their part of the Forest, they often find themselves gravitating towards it. Much like their den, it feels like home. That and even in the harshest of Winter, when Eggsy won’t even wake to eat, he can get a feel of his will lingering under the snow. He hasn’t asked Eggsy, but it is probably the same for him.

However, he’s a bit more stunned to hear singing. He’s heard Eggsy humming under his breath before, when he is focused on whatever task at hands, but this? This is entirely different.

This is the singing that only occurs when one is perfectly happy with the whole world and their place within it, when one is entirely carefree. The type of singing Harry barely remembers from his own childhood, from a time before the horrors of the Wars.

And Eggsy is not only singing, he is also dancing merrily all around the clearing, white flowers blooming under his feet. JB is his unlikely partner, but the bear seems as happy as a bear can be, and so, Harry simply sits down and watch them twirl around, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders, a weight he hadn’t realised he had been carrying before it had been well and truly gone, melted like snow under the Sun that is Eggsy’s joy.

When the Summer Child - because here, now, Eggsy is nothing but the Offspring of his Mother Season - when he notices that he has an observer, he doesn’t stop, doesn’t grow self-conscious. He waves him over, but Harry declines with a shake of his head, preferring to stay where he is and feast his eyes on this spectacle of pure bliss. He does, however, joins his voice to Eggsy’s and in doing so, finds out that him too, is perfectly happy with his place in the world.

*

The first snow has yet to start falling, even if Winter has definitely started, the air now too cold for Eggsy to continue strolling around in his usual clothing, forcing him to don his furs before going outside to look for Harry.

For once, he doesn’t find him in their clearing, even if he can sense that he isn’t too far. When he finds him, down by the river that flows through the Forest, Eggsy doesn’t make his presence known, even if he knows Harry must have felt him approaching. Instead he prefers to stay back for the moment and watch the other man at work.

He’s beautiful like this, gliding elegantly from tree to tree, brushing a hand on their bark until they shimmer with frost. It is very much like a dance, one Eggsy doesn’t think he’ll ever tire watching.

He gasps out loud when Harry’s steps lead him to the river and the man gingerly walks in it. Its flow is still too strong for any ice to have formed on its surface, but surely it must be glacial.

However, a closer look reveals that Harry isn’t standing _in_ the river, he’s stepping _on_ it, what was running water not a second ago, now thick ice under his feet.

After his sound of surprise, Eggsy’s presence is finally acknowledge, and Harry holds out a hand to him, inviting him to join him. He does, carefully stepping on the patch of ice, listening for any sound that would indicate it cannot support their combined weight. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Harry, simply that even though he’s keeping it in check, his own will usually melts any ice he might see and he very much doesn’t want to take a swim in the freezing river if he can help it.

After a few seconds, it becomes apparent that the will of Summer is of no consequence during Winter, even if it hasn’t really begun yet, even if this is still the strange time in-between seasons that keeps getting longer on their territory. Harry smiles when Eggsy visibly relaxes and curls an arm around his waist to bring him closer, the other hand resting on a loose hold on his shoulder. In turn, Eggsy sinks his fingers into the furs covering Harry's chest, entirely comfortable to follow his lead, and soon Harry is making them waltz all over the river.

It is an exhilarating feeling, knowing he has to have utter faith in Harry not to sink them into the icy water, to see their feet heading for the still flowing river only to step on ice as hard as diamonds.

It’s not often that Harry seems to be as content as he is right now, so _serene_ , leading Eggsy into simple steps and amusing twirls, all to a music he’s the only one hearing. Or so Eggsy thinks, because when he finally wonders aloud on what Harry is basing his decisions for each step and turn, Harry hush him gently and makes them slows down.

“Listen.”

At first he can’t hear anything except for the wind blowing through the branches, rustling playfully the as of yet unfallen leaves.

“Oh,” he gasps softly when understanding finally dawns on him, the sound morphing into startled laughter when at a particularly strong gust, Harry dips him back, grinning at him with fond amusement.

They spend a long time dancing on the now completely frozen river, letting themselves be guided by the same rhythm as the wind playing with the trees.

***

Eggsy is sweating.

It’s not something he had been aware he could do, but there is no denying that under the Sun of the hottest days of Summer, he’s sweating for the first time in his existence.

It isn’t uncomfortable and he could continue going about his business with very little discomfort. Yet, it’s still slightly disturbing, no matter that it is far from being the first change he’s noticed in himself, in Harry, in their little part of the Forest they call a home.

Changes like how the transition between the seasons isn’t an overnight affair anymore, going more progressively during the span of a few days, nearly a couple of weeks now. Their clearing is where all of it is more visible, but it has long since spread over the rest of their territory.

It hasn’t affected their friends’ territories as of yet, but Eggsy has a feeling that maybe, possibly, him and Harry won’t be staying an anomaly for very long.

In any case, those changes feel natural and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen the Forest more thriving than these past seasons. He’ll have to ask Harry to be sure, but he wouldn’t be surprised if even before the Wars, it hadn’t been quite as flourishing as it is presently.

He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, groaning slightly at the heat. He could stay there for days and he knows it, could endure the interminable heat wave that is the middle of Summer, or he could go for a nap in their den where Harry keeps it blessedly cool, could cuddle up under the furs and let himself be lulled to the Dreamlands by his counterpart’s calm breathing.

In fact, there is no _could_ about it.

It is exactly what he’ll do.

*

The seemingly endless blizzard that marks the beginning of Winter’s coldest days has only started and already, Harry wishes he was back in the den with Eggsy.

Part of it is due to the all-encompassing loneliness he is no longer used to feel. It isn’t that they spend all their waking moments together, but there is something inherently comforting in knowing that only a few steps would be necessary to be together again. Not that it isn’t currently the case, but in the middle of Winter, there will be no rousing Eggsy from his slumber, much like Harry couldn’t be tempted to leave the bed in the middle of Summer.

If his unease was only about his desire for companionship, he could, and would, go for a short visit to his friends. And while his time with Merlin and Percival would certainly be enjoyable, he knows it won’t help his predicament.

Because what is truly intolerable to Harry, is that for the first time in his existence, he finds himself shivering from the cold. It is troubling that he can no longer stand the winds blowing around him. Or rather he can do it, but not as easily as any other Winter Folk could and should. The cold that once never even registered to him, is now a definite irritant in his activities.

He wants nothing more than to return to the den and slip under the blankets, the bed kept wonderfully warm by a sleeping Eggsy.

Suddenly, Harry stops dead in his tracks, realising that nothing is actually keeping him from doing just that. The worst that can happen is his friends coming to look for him and, after surmising about its whereabouts after not seeing him up and about, having them tease him about it the next time they meet. And after knowing them for so long, Harry can endure any teasing from his friends.

Thus, instead of persisting in being miserable alone in the storm, he makes his way back to the den, already lost in thoughts to the idea of joining Eggsy in the Dreamlands.

***

There is a tension in the air between them as they watch the dark clouds rolling closer in the sky. Maybe they should be more worried about them as there really shouldn’t been any now that Winter is over. No snow ever falls in the heat, thus no clouds should form in Summer.

Yet their thoughts couldn’t be further away than the impossibility of what they are witnessing.

Harry’s eyes leave the sky for a moment to watch his counterpart, just in time to see a bead of sweat forming on his temple and slowly rolling down the skin of his cheek.

Eggsy meets his gaze sheepishly after brushing the drop away with the back of his hand.

“I cannot stand the heat anymore.”

“And I the cold.” He should feel more concerned about it all, but cannot find in himself to really be, not when Eggsy scoots closer to him at his words, as if they’ve been of some comfort to him.

“What is happening to us Harry?”

He is so temptingly close now, enough that he can feel the coolness of his skin. Harry would merely need to reach out his hand to touch his cheek, would merely need to lean in an inch to make their lips meet. It’s only now that they are second away from close contact that he realises that they have never touch skin to skin since that fateful Winter day he found the Summer Child. Even after seasons upon seasons of sharing a bed, somehow there has always been at least one layer of fabric separating their skins.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” he finally answers before taking Eggsy’s lips in a velvety soft kiss as drops of water start falling from the sky.

The contact that Harry meant to keep short, ends up being lingering, neither of them willing to let the other go. Eggsy curls up around him, always drawn by his warmth and Harry breaks into goosebumps at the much welcomed chill of the young man body’s.

Or maybe the goose bumps are caused by the cool drops against their blushing skins.

If it is one or the other, Harry doesn’t care much, is only grateful for the respite it offers him from the humid heat. He’s quite content in fact, until Eggsy shivers against him in discomfort. They should go really, go back to the shelter of their den to wait out that unusual storm, but they are both reluctant to let the moment end. Instead, Harry pushes gently at Eggsy’s chest until he is lying on his back and he moves on top of him to block him from the worst of the drizzle.

Eggsy cups the back of his neck and Harry lets himself be lowered down so that their lips can meet again. And again. And again.

They don’t know how long they stay there, simply kissing, learning how they fit and complement each other in this new expression of their feelings for each other. It must be quite some time, because the next thing they know, their clothes are soggy with the droplets falling from the sky, the fabrics clinging to their skins unpleasantly.

Harry pushes away, smiling at Eggsy’s disapproving groan when he forces him to let go of his clothes and he laughs outwardly when the young man’s eyes got wide after Harry gets rid of his shirt.

“ _Yes_ , Harry.”

Eggsy has the most delectable blush on his cheeks when Harry goes to remove his shirt too, barely noticing how absentmindedly the man discard their clothing beside them, green eyes fixed on the expanse of naked skin he’s never seen before.

Now that Harry is not covering him so perfectly anymore, not protecting him from the cool elements, some drops fall on the skin of his face, one following the same path as the bead of sweat earlier. It’s more than Harry can resist and he leans back in, lips following the watery trail left behind, tasting salty cool skin.

Eggsy fingers sink into Harry’s curls and they are now in the perfect position for him to start eagerly kissing the hollow of his throat, making Harry shivers at the pleasant sensation of cool lips against overheated skin.

Harry makes a purring sound when soon after, Eggsy starts scratching at his scalp and he noses against the side of the young man’s neck, his lips catching against a delicate ear. Feeling mischievous, Harry tenderly catch the lobe between his teeth, biting down lightly. Eggsy tugs at his hair nearly to the point of pain in reaction, but isn’t trying to push him away, is only trying to pull him closer, something Harry is more than happy to do. He doesn’t mind the rough treatment, delights in it even, pain and pleasure combining into a heady sensation that washes over him and would threaten to overwhelm him if it wasn’t for his wanting to make sure Eggsy is getting as much from this encounter as he does himself.

From the way Eggsy wordlessly demands for more, tilting his head as if to offer up more of his skin for Harry to worship, he shouldn’t worry.

They slowly set to explore each other’s bodies with lips, tongues and fingertips, but always taking a few minutes to simply exchange sweet kisses again, as if they can’t ever get enough of each other’s lips.

When Harry brushes against one of Eggsy’s nipple, as if by mistake, Eggsy’s back arches off the ground at the flash of as of yet unknown pleasure and they are blinded for a moment by the flash of light illuminating the sky. Not that they let that stop them from continuing their slow exploration, Harry mercilessly teasing the hardening buds, heedless of Eggsy’s soft begging for him to stop torturing him so. It’s only when Eggsy sneaks a hand into his pants, circling the hot flesh of his erection, that Harry stops what he's doing, his cry of pleasure being drowned out by the loud rumble coming from the sky.

Eggsy relishes in his victory but for a moment, Harry retaliating by pressing a hand against the bulge at front of the young man’s britches, taking great delight in the muffled moans falling from the lips reddened by so many kisses.

Of course, Eggsy doesn’t let him get away with it for very long, his cheeky grin the only warning Harry gets before he gets rolled onto his back, his hands pressed against the ground by Eggsy’s, the young man now on top of him, not minding the fat drops of water hitting his skin anymore.

The first roll of Eggsy’s hips against his is punctuated by a new flash of light piercing through the stormclouds and their groans are echoed by the deep grumbles of the sky.

Harry pulls one of his hand back from Eggsy’s hold so that he can free their lengths from their confine of fabrics. He then wraps his fingers around both of their erections and starts a stroking motion that makes the young man throw his head back in pleasure. Eggsy’s free hand flies to anchor him to the first thing in reach, and it’s with a tight grip that it lands on Harry’s shoulder. It will leave marks for sure, but if Eggsy isn’t saying anything about the bruising grip Harry has on their still linked fingers, he won’t be the first to complain.

Harry is already breathing faster and he would think Eggsy less affected if only he couldn’t feel how fast his pulse is beating everytime his lips skim over the thin skin of his throat, if he couldn’t feel the small tremors shaking his frame. But maybe, that’s just Harry. Or maybe, it’s both of them.

It is so hard now to distinguish who is crying out, who is begging for more. At least until Harry opens his eyes, not remembering having closed them, and sees that Eggsy is biting his lower lip hard, enough for a small bead of blood to drip down his chin. That makes Harry surge upward, still mindful not to dislodge the young man from his position, and clean the reddish trail by a swipe of his tongue. His toes curls at the metallic taste bursting in his mouth, something _primal_ and _pleased_ unfurling in the pit of his stomach at the soundless gasp of pleasure that forms on Eggsy lips.

They spill together, pleasure as blinding as the bolts lighting up the sky, and Eggsy lets himself falls back on Harry’s chest, hiding his face in the crook of his neck as he gets his breathing back under control. Harry isn’t faring any better, Eggsy’s weight not helping in the least, but the thought of someone taking him away makes him wrap a possessive arm around his back, pressing him that much closer to him.

Eggsy doesn’t protest, sleepily snuggling closer, pressing his lips intermittently to Harry’s skin, as if sensing his irrational fear and wanting to soothe him.

It works and soon the lovers fall asleep to the sound of water slowly dripping onto the ground from the leaves in the trees.

***

Winter has ended and Summer has yet to properly start when Eggsy finds her.

He’s wandering aimlessly through their part of the Forest, delighting in seeing all the flowers growing strong even in the rather cool air of the time in-between seasons. In fact, some of them seems to be thriving even more than they ever did in the unforgiving heat of Summer.

Predictably, his feet lead him to their clearing and he cannot help but smile fondly at how it is filled with hundreds, thousands, of white flowers. It has been seasons upon seasons since there have been any other color in the clearing. James once made the observation during one of his visit that if one were to look too quickly, it would seem as if, no matter the season, the clearing is always under a fresh blanket of snow.

He’s grinning at the memory, when his eyes are drawn by the most unusual sight in the middle of a patch of daisies. Even as he steps closer, he cannot quite believe that this isn’t some trick of his mind, cannot believe he is really seeing a babe, peacefully sleeping as if there were no safer place in the whole Forest.

As he sinks to his knees, careful not to disturb the child’s slumber, he pinches himself, making sure he hasn’t simply drifted into the Dreamlands without noticing. But even the sharp pain doesn’t make the image dissolve before his eyes and he has no choice but to accept this is no secret dream of his.

It is in that moment that panic starts getting a hold of him. There are only two reasons for a child to appear in an already claimed territory. It is either to be one of its Folks’ charge or because one of those very same Folks has passed away. He would think the child to be his charge, but Summer children are only born at the highest of their season and that time hasn’t come yet even for the rest of the Forest. It cannot be Harry’s charge either, since Winter’s children are born during the coldest of snowstorms.

And since Eggsy is still very much alive, it leaves only one more possibility, even if he refuses it to be true. It simply cannot be, not when Harry was completely fine when he left him by the river earlier this morning, in JB’s company. Nothing could have happened in such a short span, could it?

He’s on the verge of tears at the mere thought, feeling sick with distress, and of course the babe chooses to rouse at that very same moment, gurgling happily at him, reaching for him with a chubby first. With the utmost care, Eggsy takes the child in his arms, biting back a sob when he can feel that her skin is distinctly warmer than his own. Not quite as warm as Harry’s, but it isn’t like he knows the first thing about Winter children.

He can suddenly feel someone approaching, but he still feels too unbalanced to figure out who it might be, and he curls around the child protectively. If it isn’t James coming for a visit, whoever the newcomer is, they better be ready for a fight, because Eggsy will rip them to shreds before he let them lay a finger on the baby.

“Eggsy? What’s happening? I could feel your distress from the river, are you okay?”

Harry finally steps into the clearing, only to stop short at the tableau before him. His stunned look isn’t quite enough to make the full-blown panic he must have been feeling disappear entirely from his expression and he seems slightly deranged like this, but Eggsy has never felt as bloody _relieved_ to see his stupid face than he is right now. He’s not even ashamed to start crying when the babe makes it clear he isn’t going off his mind and having hallucinations when she starts reaching for the older man, as if displeased with only Eggsy arms around her.

His reaction does nothing to reassure Harry, but at least it gets him at their sides, his arms wrapped tightly around them, even if he stays mindful of the babe.

“Eggsy what is it, please tell me.”

And Eggsy tries, he really does, but the words are lost to his uncontrollable sobs, to his hysterical laughter.

Harry has very little choice but to wait him out, rubbing his back soothingly, peppering his hair with the lightest of kisses. Not that he seems to mind, not when Eggsy is obviously fine, if a little unhinged.

“I thought- I thought something bad had happened to you,” Eggsy finally manages to whisper, words muffled into Harry's chest, where he is all but hiding his face.

“Happened to-?” Harry’s incomprehension doesn’t last very long, not even needing Eggsy’s explanation to understand what must have went through his mind. “The child… Is she not Summer?”

He tries leaning away to take a look at the child in Eggsy’s arms, but the young man is reluctant to have even that much distance between them after the fright he’s just had. Harry doesn’t say anything, just holds him that much closer, that much tighter, and kisses his cool temple, leaving his warm lips pressed against the skin in a reminder that he is here and doesn’t plan to ever leave.

It’s a very long moment before Eggsy feels ready to leave his embrace, long enough that the Sun is setting and JB has wandered into the clearing in search for them and started napping against a tree when it became obvious they weren’t going anywhere. While he still keeps close to Harry, the babe is now settled between them both and she is cooing excitedly at Harry as the man brushes a finger against her cheek.

“She can’t be Summer,” Eggsy finally answers the question that have been hanging between them all this time. “It’s not the middle of the season yet.” Neither states that obvious, that she cannot be Winter either.

Harry’s expression gets considering and he must come to a pleasing conclusion, because the softest of smile appears on his face.

“Well if she isn’t Summer nor Winter, than surely, she is from this season.”

Eggsy almost asks him what he is going on about, but he comes to the exact same realisation that Harry must have come to before a word can leave his lips. This strange time they share between them has only ever gotten longer and longer and could very well be, _must have become_ , a season all of its own now.

An entirely new season, one of flowers, thunderstorm and tranquility. He cannot wait for the child to be old enough so that she can tell them what is its name.

“I guess she is both our charge then,” he whispers in awe at the implications of it all and Harry nods happily, drawing him closer again as they watch the babe falling back to sleep.

In the distance they can hear a thunderstorm rolling closer and soon they’ll have to head back for their den. But right now, they cannot be bothered to move, not when they can bask in the discovery of their newest wonder, a child that is neither Winter and Summer and also both at the same time. A child that is _theirs_.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Spring Gathering](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8055976) by [johanirae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/johanirae/pseuds/johanirae)




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